


(Literally) Falling For You

by CryMeARiverSong



Series: Welcome to Yogwarts [1]
Category: Hatfilms, The Yogscast
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Fluff, HFHPAU, Hat Films, Hufflepuff!Ross, M/M, Madam Pomfrey is so over their shit, Minor Injuries, Multi, Polyamory, Quidditch, Ravenclaw!Trott, Slytherin!Smiffy, Smiffy is a big sap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 17:57:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3497558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CryMeARiverSong/pseuds/CryMeARiverSong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Somehow, Trott could tell that it was a bad idea from the beginning. Maybe it was because he hadn’t ridden a broom since the summer break, or perhaps it was because he never had quite the right arm for tossing a quaffle. He knew there had to be some reason behind that bead of sweat that was now forming on his hairline.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Literally) Falling For You

 

 

It had started before the final quidditch match of the term. Eagles versus Badgers. Usually peaceful and calm, the Ravenclaw common room was in utter disarray. Blue and bronze robes flew in all directions, obscuring the vision of anyone trying to enter the dorms.

During the confusion, Smith had managed to get in and was waiting for Trott on one of the long, navy couches at the side of the room. He looked out of place, his Slytherin robes the only glimpse of green amongst a sea of Ravenclaws. Nobody paid him any attention as all but a few students filed out the door and began to make their way towards the quidditch pitch.

 

“Hey Trott,” Alex smirked as he pulled the smaller boy from the crowd by the sleeve of his robe, “ready to watch Ross play?”

Trott planted a quick kiss on his boyfriend's stubbly cheek (he was the only one in the year group who could grow a proper beard without the use of magic.)

“Yeah, mate,” he grinned before raising an eyebrow, “hang on, how’d you get in here?”

“Followed some first years in about half an hour ago. Nobody seemed to be paying close attention.”

Trott nodded. “We’ve been having some issues with the team; three of our players are in the hospital wing with spattergroit.”

“Ooh, tough luck,” Smith grimaced, “so what’s happening?”

“The Puffs are happy to call the match off, but Lewis is certain he can find someone to fill the last chaser position.” Trott shrugged, gesturing towards a seventh year boy in quidditch robes.

“Why don’t you play?” the ginger suggested, “you can use my broom.”

“Nah, they need a chaser, I’m only good at seeker.”

“Aw, come on mate, you can do it,” Alex smirked, “oi, Lewis!”

The Ravenclaw captain spun around from where he had been trying to convince a second year to play.

“Huh?”

“Trott will play for ya, he’ll use my firebolt.”

Lewis looked relieved. “Thanks, Chris,” he smiled, tossing him a set of robes.

"Meet us on the pitch in ten minutes,” he said, legging it out of the room before Trott could get another word out.

 

“Smith, I swear to _god_ ,” Trott grumbled, staring at his boyfriend with a look of intense hatred.

“What?” Smith laughed, “mate, you’ll be _fine_. You play with me and Ross all the time.”

“Yeah, just the three of us!” Trott groaned, “and even then I’m never a chaser, I’ve got no clue how to handle a quaffle.”

“You watch Ross and I when we play,” countered Smith, “you must’ve picked up _something_.”

”Yeah, mate. I've got the shape of your arses committed to memory." Trott said, his voice laced with sarcasm.

“Whatever, just go and get changed. I’ll be waiting with my broom at the pitch.”

“How I put up with you, I don't fucking know.” Trott muttered, stalking off towards his dorm.

 

\---

 

The robes were much too tight, Trott had a feeling that they were made for a child, much less a sixteen year old boy. He felt ridiculous, walking towards the pitch with a slither of his stomach exposed to the chilling winter air.

Smith gave a wicked smirk and whistled as Trott approached, "looking good, Trotty too Hotty."

"Shut up," the shorter boy groaned, pulling the broom from Smith's hands with almost zero enthusiasm.

"I can't believe you’re making me do this."

 

Before Smith could reply, Lewis and his girlfriend, who was one of the two beaters on the Ravenclaw side, had appeared.

"Thank god, I was beginning to think you'd changed your mind," Lewis said, “come on then, we can’t be late.”

Hannah rolled her eyes. “Lewis, you idiot, you’ve gone and given him the wrong sized uniform.”

She pulled her wand from the sheath on her belt and muttered a quick spell, letting the robes grow and fit to Trott’s form.  
“Thanks,” he smiled gratefully as Lewis guided him towards the centre of the field where the rest of the team was waiting.

 

The Hufflepuffs were there too, tossing around a quaffle and chatting amongst themselves. In his yellow quidditch robes, Ross' eyes widened and his mouth formed a large grin when he spotted his boyfriend walking across the grass.  
“Trott!” he beamed, “you’re playing? I thought you guys had a seeker.”

“We do, I’m playing chaser.” Chris told the Hufflepuff.

Ross considered this for a moment.

“I didn’t know you played chaser.”

“I don’t, mate. Smith volunteered me, and Lewis didn’t give me a chance to say no.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

The referee blew his whistle, signalling the game was about to begin. Giving his boyfriend one last peck on the cheek, Ross ran back to the Badger side and got ready to play.

 

For the first half hour, everything went rather well for Trott. The Ravenclaw side was up 120-70, two of their twelve goals scored by his hand. He was feeling pretty proud of himself, smirking at Smith and showing off a bit with unnecessary backflips and barrel rolls. One time Ross had anticipated Trott's upwards turn and had snatched the quaffle, screaming "Eat shit!" as he passed. This had only steeled Trott's determination, and soon he was biffing the quaffle like he'd been doing it for years.

 

Although he was doing well, Trott felt slightly uneasy; like there was someone breathing down his neck. He ignored it for the most part, hiding his worry behind flashy tricks and a winning grin.

 

Cheers erupted from the stands while the two seekers, one yellow, one blue, dived towards a glint of light near the Hufflepuff goals. Trott made the mistake of slowing down as he watched, forgetting the he held the quaffle and that there were three opposition chasers close on his tail.   
  
The four man pile-up knocked Trott off his broom and spiralling towards the grass at an alarming speed.

 

The entire arena gasped and went silent. From way above him, he heard Ross scream his name and somebody else shouted a spell. The ground welcomed him with a dull thud and the sickening crack of bones breaking. Teachers and students rushed onto the pitch, but all Trott could think of before he passed out was the black eye he was going to give his goddamned boyfriend when he next saw him.

 

\---

  


“Chris?”

It was Smith’s voice that woke him.   
“You piece of shit,” Trott grumbled, opening his eyes.   
He was in the Hospital wing, that much he could tell from the slightly itchy pajamas and the mattress beneath him. He tried to sit up but winced in pain as his wrist gave way.

“Careful, mate. You need to let that heal,” Smith warned, helping him shuffle into a more comfortable position.

“That was quite a fall,” he told him, returning to his seat beside Trott’s bed. “Broke your left leg, fractured your right shin and your left wrist. Madame Pomfrey will have you fixed in no time, though.”

Trott took a moment to take in the severity of his injuries, studying his swollen hand with a look of distaste. He turned to face his boyfriend, his face uncharacteristically angry.  
“This is your fault,” Trott growled, taking a swing at him with his good arm.

 

Lucky for Smith, the medications had made him slow and his right hand wasn’t his dominant one, so he easily avoided the punch.

“Oi, it’s not all my fault. If you’d’ve been focussed on the quaffle instead of watching the snitch you would have been fine!” he snapped.

“If you hadn’t volunteered me I wouldn’t have been playing in the first place!” Trott fumed.

  
Smith looked like he was about to launch into a spiel about how it was more Trott’s fault than it was his, when Ross entered still dressed in his quidditch robes and looking rather flustered.

“Is he awake?” he asked quietly.  
“And throwing punches,” Smith answered, “he thinks it’s my fault he fell off his broom.”

Ross sighed, “It sort of is.”  
Smith looked betrayed. He opened his mouth to object, but Ross continued talking, “but then again, he probably would’ve died if it weren’t for that quick spell.”

Trott knitted his eyebrows, “Wait, that was _you_?”

Smith shrugged, “Saw it in a book. _Aresto Momentum_. Obviously it didn’t work perfectly,” he motioned to Trott’s various injuries, “but at least we didn’t have to scrape you off the pitch, eh?”

 

Trott raised an eyebrow, "well I guess we're even, then."

“C’mon Trott, I saved your life!”

“And endangered it!”

 

Ross was laughing, "you two are like a married couple, I feel left out."

Trott rolled his eyes, "well if you really want to be included I can accuse you of flying into me on purpose."

"No thanks, can we just kiss a bit?"

"Sure, mate," Smith agreed, greedily pulling Ross into his lap.

 

"Excuse me? I'm the injured boyfriend here, where's my sympathy snog?"

"Wait your turn, Trott," Ross mumbled through Smith's lips.

Trott pouted, huffing slightly.

 

Just as Ross had finally come up for air and had turned towards Trott, Madam Pomfrey popped out of her office to give her patient some more of her healing potion.

"What are you two doing here?" she demanded, shooing the uninjured pair from Trott's bedside, "the boy needs rest. Go, you can come back tomorrow after your classes."

 

Reluctantly, Smith and Ross gave Trott parting pecks on each cheek. The show of affection didn't startle the Hogwarts matron. She'd had each member of the trio in for various injuries, every time catching them doing _something_ she would have previously thought questionable in her pristine hospital.

 

Gratefully accepting the potion Madam Pomfrey gave him, Trott lay back and fell asleep.  
  


\---

  
Only once did Trott wake during the night, when he felt something large and warm shuffle on to the bed beside him. Smiling softly, he allowed Smith under the duvet and wrapped his rapidly healing arm around his boyfriend’s waist. Tilting his head slightly so it was in line with Trott’s, the ginger boy placed a gentle kiss on the Ravenclaw’s lips.

“Because you missed out earlier,” whispered the Slytherin.  
Trott smirked, reaching up with his good arm and pulling Smith’s head towards his own.

 

“Because you saved my life.”  
  


 


End file.
